


That Ordinary Boy

by anyothergirl415



Series: Loveland High verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new boy at school, his appearance sets off just the faintest ripple through the students of Loveland High School.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Ordinary Boy

"Did you know that Walloons speak French?"

Looking up from his notebook, Jensen eyed his best friend with an appropriate amount of trepidation. You never knew with Mike what you might be getting yourself into if you questioned one of his completely pointless and often very random facts. "Okay. I'll bite. What the hell is a Walloon?

"A group of people from Wallonia." Mike shrugged, pushing up at the middle of his glasses and glancing out into the street.

Snorting, Jensen shook his head slowly. "There is no such place as Wallonia."

"Mmhmm. Walloons can also be found in Picard. They're German, and Celtic. Originally."

There was no reason to second guess what Mike was saying, he kind of just picked up these things, stored them away and let them loose in moments when he wanted to talk but failed at the average person's way of communication. Like now for instance. "But they speak French?"

"Yeah. Weird huh?" Mike grinned. Something loud clattered down the street and Mike twisted around to look, lips pressing together in a slight pout. "Mrs. Krushnic moving out?"

A frown, understandably, turned Jensen's lips down. No one who knew Mrs. Krushnic would want her to move. She was not only a fantastic neighbor, but one of the craziest old women alive. Everyone loved her for it. "I never saw a for sale sign. Seriously doubt it man, she's lived there her whole life."

The moving truck wasn't too big, certainly not big enough for someone to put a whole life’s worth of belongings in, and Jensen realized the people walking out of the truck were carrying things inside the house. Like a collection of wood panels with bars, all folded together. Jensen had no idea what that could be.

"Someone's moving in." Mike stated - quite obviously by that point - and scrunched up his nose. "Mrs. Krushnic found a Mr. Krushnic."

"Dude, other way around and no. I don't think so. She once told me she'd never settle down with a man again after her dear Alfred passed on." It had been a sad day when Mr. Krushnic passed away. Jensen was only eight and it was the first person he could ever remember dying in his life. Mostly he didn't think about it. "Who do you think that is?" Jensen jerked his head up to indicate a shaggy brunette, tall and thin, his body straining around the box he was carrying down the ramp from the back of the truck, wearing a traffic sign orange shirt that probably would have been blinding if you were standing close enough.

"No clue. Really. International spy? Bought and paid for slave? Inherited Russian child from the remote village of Nikolaevsk?" Mike suggested, watching the boy until he disappeared through the garage before turning back to look at Jensen. "No?"

"Did Murray feed you too much Play Doh as a kid or something?" Jensen teased, smiling warmly at his best friend to let him know he was joking.

Mike grinned and pulled his glasses off, using the edge of his neon green shirt to clean off the already clean glass. Really, judging that guy's fashion sense, him and Mike could be good friends. "Nope. Think I might have watched too much Fraggle Rock though."

"Ah yes, that show could damage even the strongest of minds." Jensen snorted. They'd all watched Fraggle Rock together when they were younger. Back when it was the four of them and not two and two. Back when Jensen's best friend wasn't Mike, was Jared instead. That was a whole life time ago.

Across the street the front door of the two story bright blue house opened and Chad Michael Murray stepped out followed shortly by the not short at all Jared Padalecki. Jensen looked away from the Murray house before any of their gazes could meet.

"You know you could talk-"

"Wanna go inside and hit my mom up for some cookies?" Jensen suggested even as he climbed to his feet.

Mike frowned but clambered up and followed. When Jensen glanced back down the street Mrs. Krushnic was talking to the dark haired kid, tipping her head back in laughter. Whoever he was, Jensen thought he was kind of lucky to get to live with such a cool lady.

  


"Good. Nothin' worse than tryin' to shoot hoops with those two losers watchin'." Chad huffed and slapped the ball down beneath his palm - the sound of a door closing in between beats two and three.

Jared frowned, listening to the ball's steady _thump, thump, thump_ on the driveway. "You're a douche Murray," He grumbled and wasn't all that surprised when Chad shot him a wide grin. Sometimes Jared didn't really understand why Jensen and Mike were losers, because they weren't really, not that much.

In the distance something clattered and Jared turned, letting out a breathy _oomph_ when the ball slammed hard into his chest. "Dude," Chad stepped up to his side to see what he was looking at. Which was currently the truck parked a few houses down. "U-haul. That's what she said."

"That..." Jared glanced toward Chad and lifted his brows. "It doesn't even make sense."

"Whatever." Chad shrugged it off and headed down the driveway. "Come on, let's go talk to Old K, see what's happening."

If it had just been Jared he probably wouldn't have gone. It wasn't like he was necessarily shy - his mom said he had a natural way with people and was destined for bigger and better things - but there was such a thing as over curiosity. If he didn't go with Chad though, his friend was likely to say something really embarrassing and Jared liked to think he was kind of in charge of making sure Chad made an ass out of himself as little as possible. An impossible feat, yes, but Jared did what he could.

"Mrs. K!" Chad hollered when they were still a house away. "You're not leavin' us are you?"

Jared felt a dull ache in his chest just _thinking_ about Mrs. Krushnic moving out. She had always been there; Jared could remember the Christmas Jeff had told him Santa wasn't real and Mrs. Krushnic had held him close and fed him sugar cookies and said Santa could be real if he just believed it. To this day, Jared still kind of believed in Santa, but he didn't tell anyone that.

The woman looked toward Chad with a fond, maybe slightly disapproving, smile. "Course not Chad Michael, could never leave this old house even if she's fallin' apart from the inside out."

When Chad just grinned Jared couldn't help laughing. The woman was the only person he knew that could get away with calling Chad, Chad Michael. One time Jared had tried, he got a punch in the arm and a silver dollar bruise to show for it. "What's with the truck?" Jared asked curiously, glancing inside the vehicle. He could see a box labeled _toys_ and another labeled _not toys_. It didn't answer much.

"Oh, just have some family moving in." Mrs. Krushnic looked toward the garage just as a boy somewhere around their age came out. His steps faltered slightly at the sight of Jared and Chad and he picked along the frayed edges of the brightest shirt Jared had ever seen. Well, except maybe some of the ones Mike wore sometimes. "Misha, don't be rude, come meet these two fine young fellows."

Chad snorted and Jared elbowed him, shaking his head slightly. "Hey Misha, I'm Jared. This retard is Chad." Jared grinned and stepped forward to offer his hand.

Misha peered at the hand for a moment before turning slightly and touching his elbow to the open palm. "Sup."

Judging from the way Chad bit down hard on his lip and turned slightly red, Jared had a hunch he was fighting off a burst of laughter. Jared was just kind of confused but Mrs. Krushnic didn't seem in the slight bit weirded out. "Uh. Not much," Jared mumbled and forced himself to look away. _Weird_ was an understatement.

"Misha will be going to your school, he's a senior too. So you boys be real nice. And where are Jensen and Michael this afternoon?" Mrs. Krushnic dug into her pocket, pulling out a handful of individually wrapped candies and offering one to Jared and Chad who'd been around long enough to hold out their hands the moment she reached into her pocket. Misha seemed to know too because he was currently offering his hand, palm down mind you and Mrs. Krushnic balanced the red wrapped candy easily there.

"Around." Jared shrugged, answering because Chad wouldn't. Mrs. Krushnic seemed to be the only person around who'd never accepted the separation of the dynamic quartet. It had been so many years ago most people didn't even question it anymore but not her, she always asked.

Or at least when Jared and Chad were there, Jared had no idea what she said when Jensen and Mike came to visit. "Ah well, tell them I said hello. You two go play your ball, remember to brush your teeth tonight because of the candy. Have a good day."

Jared waved at Misha - who was now back in the garage and pressing some weird white walkie talkie thing to his ear - then followed Chad back down the street, moving the strawberry candy from between his cheek and teeth across his tongue.

"Dude, elbow?" Chad arched his eyebrows at Jared in disbelief, laughter finally taking hold. "What a freak."

"That's what she said," Jared mumbled, mostly because it made Chad laugh and he didn't really want to insult some guy he didn't even know. Really, Jared didn't want to insult _anyone_.

When he glanced back over his shoulder at the Ackles house - the one next to his, with its fading green paint and chipped white shutters - he could see Jensen crossing the living room, arms flailing about around his head. An _oomph_ left his lips when he turned just in time to get another thrown ball in his stomach.

  


As usual, walking through the main hallway on any school morning was somewhat like navigating your way through a swarm of gossipy, sugar crazed goldfish. Or another selection of fish that moved very quickly and quite sporadically - that was probably almost any type of fish if he thought about it. Mike wasn't so much a fan - of fish in general or gossipy, sugar crazed goldfish. Especially considering he was mostly translucent but not invisible, therefore others walking into his side did hurt and not receiving an apology wasn't much better. Mike though had spent four years living this life and he had long since gotten used to it.

"Rosey! Roooosey. Dude, fucker, stop."

Mike would rather ignore Chad calling his name down the hall - at most points in life he avoided Chad, it was a choice he'd made a while ago - but the boy managed to catch up to him and had snagged the hood of his favorite rainbow knitted sweatshirt. "What Murray?" Mike frowned, rubbing along his neck as he turned.

Chad wasn't alone which wasn't unexpected, only he wasn't with Jared - that _was_ unexpected - it was some other tall, dark haired guy that Mike remembered seeing outside Mrs. Krushnic's house a couple of days ago. The guy was much better looking up close and Mike liked the shirt he was wearing - _If I am Mulder will you be my Scully?_

"This is Misha. Misha, Rosey. Show him around would ya? Beaver asked me to do it but you know, I got Kane first and the guy gets twitchy if you miss his class so whatev's right?" Chad was already back stepping, holding up his arms and shrugging like it couldn't be helped. That might be believable if he wasn't wearing a shit ass grin at the same time.

Both Mike and Misha watched him go and - creepily at the same time - turned to look back at each other. "Kane?" Misha asked, blinking a couple of times.

Mike watched crystal blue eyes appear, disappear, appear, disappear. Then answered, "Christian Kane. Teacher, English and theatre and some music. Not Cane, like sugar cane, which is any of six to thirty-seven species, depending on taxonomic system, of tall perennial grasses of the genus _Saccharum_." A while ago, Mike had stopped questioning why he sprouted out stupid stuff like that, it made his life easier.

Misha just blinked again then touched his elbow to Mike's arm. "Rosey?"

"Rosenbaum. Michael. Mike." He shrugged and rubbed at his arm, not wondering maybe as much as he should have as to why Misha had done that. Instead, he stepped forward and touched his elbow to the boy's arm. "Misha?"

"Collins. Krushnic. Collins." Misha shrugged and shifted the stack of books from one arm to the other. When Mike just continued to stare he grinned, splitting his lips from one side to the other in a wide curve. "My mom's maiden name was Krushnic and she went by it for a while, but she married my dad when I was twelve and we became official Collins. So, I kind of use both sometimes."

There was a whole bunch of confusing stuff about that sentence that Mike didn't bother questioning. "I like your Grandma. She helped me name my dog."

"What name?" Misha shifted from one foot to the other, blinked, but mostly kept his eyes on Mike.

"Borris." Mike bit his lip, puffed out his cheeks, letting them deflate in a slow exhale. "Tour?"

"Yup." Misha nodded and let Mike lead him down the hallway through the thinning crowd.

Because he'd been there going on four years, Mike could say which teachers taught in which rooms. But because he didn't really care so much, that was about all he could say. They passed room after room and Mike said the subject, the teacher if he knew it, and then it would be silence until the next closed doorway. Mike didn't mind silence, unless he wanted talking. With this guy, he kind of did, because even if he decided later on that Mike was too lame to befriend, he was at least there right now.

"More people are killed annually by donkeys than in airplane crashes. That's the gym." Mike gestured with his elbow toward two large doors. Maybe Misha Collins Krushnic Collins had an elbow thing.

Misha's steps had hesitated for just a moment before resuming and he smiled over at Mike. "I might just have a lifelong fear of donkeys now."

"As long as it's not planes." Mike grinned back, pushing up at his glasses. "Which class?"

Without glancing down at the books or paper in his hand, Misha answered. "Natural Science. Meyers?"

"Pity." Mike led the way down the hall again and this time he didn't tell Misha whose classrooms were whose because none of the senior classes were down Wing E. If Mike was taking the long way back to their classes, he wasn't admitting to it. "Reindeer milk has three times the protein as cow’s milk."

"Yeah?" Misha laughed - Mike noted how the sound made his spine tingle in all sorts of ways - and bobbed his head. "I should tell Grandma. Protein is good."

"If you have a reindeer, or know where you could milk one without some sort of complication. Some states might have laws against milking reindeer's. I'm pretty sure the North Pole does at least." Mike wasn't really testing Misha to see how much he'd take, but he wasn't trying to tame it down either. This was how an average conversation went in his world, he didn't try sheltering people from that and they could do as they wished as a result.

Misha stopped walking and Mike felt the sting of disappointment despite his resolve not to be someone different. Seriously, the guy was wearing an X-Files shirt, which had to mean something - specifically that he could tolerate Mike's particular brand of unusual. "Michael?"

Mike glanced over his shoulders, just to make sure no one else was around, and then looked forward. "Misha Collins Krushnic Collins?"

That Cheshire slow grin stretched Misha's lips once more and he stepped close, poking his index finger to the middle of Mike's forehead. "Let's be friends."

"Okay." Mike grinned back and nodded, letting Misha lead the way back down the hallway once more. "Sigmund Freud had a morbid fear of ferns."

"Well, ferns are pretty morbid."

  


Lunch was a fanfare of teenager hormones and bad cafeteria food. Mike had the feeling it was a pretty typical high school in that respect. Since he was a Freshman - and had particularly nasty case of the flu post lunch lady's special - Mike had packed his own lunch. Today it was a roast beef sandwich with mustard and pickles and Jensen eyed it with the caution one would give a pop quiz - something close to fear and disgust.

"How do you eat that?" His face scrunched up and paled just slightly, freckles standing out amongst milk white skin.

Mike glanced over at the lump of cheese and he guessed noodles on Jensen's tray. "How do you eat _that_? Looks like it was pulled from a giant's-"

"Okay. I give. Please, don't." Jensen shook his head roughly and rolled his eyes when Mike grinned in obvious triumph.

"Michael?"

Not many people outside occasional teachers un-supportive of nicknames called Mike by his full name. But this voice he recognized and he smiled up at the X-Files shirt before turning his gaze further up to bright blue eyes. "Misha Collins Krushnic Collins, sit."

"It might get hard to keep calling me that." Misha pointed out but continued to grin as he dropped his lunch box - an old plastic one with a faded picture of Batman on the front - onto the table and slid onto the bench. "Hey, I'm Misha," he smiled over at Jensen, shifting on the seat.

"Jensen. You moved in with Mrs. Krushnic huh?" Jensen smiled in return before stuffing a bite of the supposed mac'n'cheese into his mouth.

"Yeah, my Grandma. She mentioned you live down the street." Misha opened his lunch box and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It didn't take long for the two boys to flow into an enviably easy conversation. Mike listened, because he always did, and ate his sandwich with only the slightest nagging in his gut. Usually at lunch it was just Jensen and him. They hung out with some other kids sometimes but mostly that was Jensen, mostly people couldn't really stand heavy doses of Mike. Even his mom had a low tolerance level, often sighing when Mike hung around the kitchen and rambled pointless facts to her for too long.

"Each king in a deck of playing cards represents a great king from history. Spades - King David, Clubs - Alexander the Great, Hearts - Charlemagne, and Diamonds - Julius Caesar." Mike jumped on the slightest lull in the conversation, not because he wanted the boys to stop talking, but mainly because he didn't know how else to fit into whatever it was they were discussing.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Jensen tense. Mike knew him well enough to know his friend was waiting Misha's response. Jensen was a good guy and he'd hang out with you, talk to you, but if you were to down on Mike for any reason then his loyalties flared and that was it. It always made Mike feel a little bit special.

Thankfully, Misha hadn't changed in the course of his morning classes and he beamed at Mike with enough intensity to have him blushing. "That's awesome. I feel like they should put that on the backs of card decks, so people know."

"That's why I exist." Mike smiled down at his lunch then up over at Jensen, almost as if he were saying _see who I found? Isn't he great? Can we keep him?_

"Mike, the ever constant treasure trove of things you didn't know you wanted to know," Jensen laughed and drained the rest of his bottle of water.

"The oldest known goldfish lived to forty one years of age. Its name was Fred." Mike pushed up his glasses and grinned over at Misha, officially deciding this was the coolest new kid to ever come to Loveland High.

"I once had a Cabbage Patch Doll named Fred." Misha grinned back and pulled out a bag of brownies. "My Grandma made these, you guys want one?"

Yeah, definitely the coolest new kid ever.

  


The only class Jared had without Chad happened to be the only class he had with Jensen. Not that it made much of a difference but sometimes Jared thought it was a good thing. Chad may be his best friend but there was always something deeper, some buried emotion regarding Jensen that he'd been avoiding for years because it didn't matter if he focused in on it or not. Some things just couldn't change after so long.

"Jared right?"

Looking up from his notebook, Jared was a little surprised to see Misha there. He knew Chad had ditched him earlier in the day because he never missed an English class - Jared had this whole secret theory about that but it was too complicated to even begin processing. "Yeah. Hey. You have English now too?"

"Yeah. Jensen, do you know him? Anyway, we ate lunch together and he said he was in this class, do you know where he sits?" Misha glanced around the desks, shifting the books against his chest.

Jared in fact did know where Jensen sat. He knew a lot of things about Jensen, but he didn't mention them. "Over there, it's not assigned seats, so you can sit wherever."

"Oh, cool." Misha nodded and glanced in the direction Jared was pointing before looking back. "You guys aren't friends are you? My Grandma said..."

"We all used to be, not anymore though," Jared shrugged, fingers combing up through his hair. He was growing it out, kind of a more hip, rugged look. His mom said he should get it cut but then, what did moms know anyway? "You can sit by me if you want."

"Oh." Misha's lips thinned out slightly and he looked back toward the door and sighed. "I told Jensen I'd sit with him. Otherwise I would. Sit with you. Maybe tomorrow or something?"

"Yeah it's cool." Jared smiled as if it was. Truthfully English was the loneliest of all his classes. Jared was too much of a people person to handle any long stretches of time with no one to talk to or share funny faces with.

"You could, come sit by us?" Misha suggested, grinning as he half stepped back.

Jared thought about it, considered how Jensen would react if he got up and followed Misha over to the other side of the room. Considering Jensen wasn't even in the room yet, the boy would probably just take the seat Jared vacated. "Nah, I'm good. Talk to you later."

"Okay." Misha nodded and let it drop, making it to the indicated desks just as Jensen slid in the room and greeted him with a grin bright enough to light up everything in a ten foot radius. Jared looked away.

A few moments later Kane came in and let a large book drop loud on the desk. No one batted an eye - except Misha who nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise. "Sorry," the teacher chuckled and shook his head. "That's my version of the bell. You'll get used to it."

"Or shut your mouth 'cause you know what's good for you." Jensen mock whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear and laugh.

"Oh good Jensen, thanks for volunteering to read your paper first." Kane dropped into the chair behind his desk and smirked at Jensen as the class's laughter grew.

Jared looked out the window to hide the wide grin on his lips.

  


"How was school dearest?"

Misha smiled warm and soft at his Grandma's greeting and slid the backpack off his shoulders, carrying it to the table. "Better than I expected. Kind of made some friends. Michael Rosenbaum? And Jensen."

"Oh yes, Michael and Jensen. Good boys. They live not too far from here." The older woman came into the room, washing her hands on a dish towel. "And the teachers were good?"

"Maybe. Seemed okay. I had one, Mr. Kane. He's a bit intimidating." Misha laughed and looked around the living room, hands coming up through his hair before his eyes drifted to the stairs. "Well, I'm just gonna-"

"She's sleeping Misha darling, don't wake her up." His Grandma laughed quietly and stepped forward, patting his shoulder and letting her hand linger there. "Why don't you go take a nap? You look exhausted. I've got things covered."

"Thanks Grandma." Misha stepped in to close his arms around the woman in a hug before heading for the stairs, careful not to make too much noise as he ascended.


End file.
